The Green Siren
by Repello Inimicum
Summary: When Draco Malfoy is kidnapped by pirates, the only thing keeping him from an unforgiving fate is the ruthless captain himself. While aboard The Green Siren, Draco is taken with them on a journey he couldn't have fathomed being a part of. Fearsome crews, the four Marauders themselves, and pirate Captain Voldemort all appear in their search revolving around the Lord of Lamentation.
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

Draco wouldn't consider himself a hateful person. He said his prayers daily, lacked in enemies, and couldn't honestly say that he wished death upon a man. Blood thirst and corporal punishment were subjects he tended to shy away from, to the commodore's displeasure and his mother's delight.

Looking upon the gallows, from his position in the shade beside his father, he couldn't understand why men and women made it a habit to observe such horrific happenings. Watching one hang by his neck in such a lovely square sickened Draco. Despite the crimes committed, death was an intimate affair and it felt wrong to deliver it before a crowd in such a humiliating position, even if the miscreant didn't grant that choice to another.

"Ronald Weasley, be it known that you have for your willful commission of crimes against the crown. Said crimes being numerous in quantity and containing acts of or relating to piracy…"

Tuning out the man reading off of a scroll, Draco's eyes locked onto the man being led up to the gallows. His hair was limp, hanging down to his shoulders, and a fiery red almost as vibrant as the uniforms some of the soldiers wore. Despite the intimidating drumroll and the stating of his crimes, his blue eyes met those of anyone who dared hold his gaze. Draco felt his stomach flop and his chest tighten when they locked with his gray eyes and after only a moment, he glanced down at his hands.

"… for conspiring with known enemy to the crown, convict, and pirate, Harry James Potter…"

Draco's eyes widened and he looked up at the red-haired man again. _He was part of Captain Harry Potter's crew?_ His mouth went dry and he gulped—this man, Ronald Weasley, somehow seemed much more dangerous than he had before.

He chanced a look at his mother and father and wondered how they could look on with such stony expressions on their faces. Draco knew that his father had to be an expert at controlling his emotions—it was an important art one must master before even considering breaching the world of a politician—but it still unnerved him.

"And for these crimes you have been sentenced to be, on this day, hung by the neck until dead." The man rolled up the scroll and tentatively met the eyes of the pirate. "May God have mercy on your soul."

As a soldier stepped forward to secure the rope around the pirate's neck, Draco could hear his pulse thrumming in his ears. He'd never watched a man die before—he'd only attended this hanging because his father had insisted he start partaking in public events, as Draco would most likely secure the position as governor once his father stepped down. It hadn't fully occurred to him until that moment that he'd actually witness a man's life torn from him.

"May God have mercy on all our souls," he breathed, his words audible to only himself.

Once the rope was snug around the pirate's neck, the soldier stepped back and nodded to the executioner. He stepped forward, toward the lever that would unhinge the trapdoor-like floor beneath the pirate. Draco took a deep breath and prepared himself, pushing his emotions away in an effort to remain indifferent.

Right as the executioner reached for the lever, a thud sounded and Draco wondered if the lever had been pulled. He frowned—the pirate was still standing at the gallows. Confusion flooded him as a disheveled soldier stumbled into the courtyard, panting and mumbling hysterically.

"What is the meaning of this?" Commodore Snape demanded sternly, striding toward the broken man.

"P-pirates," he stuttered. "They're in the village. Headed this way."

Commodore Snape's nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. Draco turned to his father, ignoring the commodore's response. The only indication that Lucius Malfoy was even remotely unsettled by the soldier's words was his white-knuckle grip on his cane. Narcissa took her husband's arm and looked on with wide eyes, alternating between the gallows, the commodore, and Draco.

"Governor, if you'll follow me, we'll get you and yours to safety."

Lucius hurried after the commodore, glancing back frequently to make sure that Narcissa and Draco were following. Draco's mother had his hand in a death grip and she would pull him closer every time they'd hear the shattering of glass or a scream. The commodore led them through back roads, avoiding the main streets in the village. Draco could hear the commotion and the sound of swords clashing, could hear the sound of children wailing and men and women crying out. Despite his lack of military experience, he wanted nothing more in that moment than to go and help. He wanted to do something, anything, to ease the shrieks and gasps even a little bit, but his parents and the commodore would never hear of it.

The wooden cottages that had previously been surrounded by the hustle and bustle of everyday life, the scent of pastries and flowers, and the clang of metal were now being set ablaze and ransacked. The cobblestone streets that Draco had once strolled down were littered with unmoving bodies and watered with blood, mud, and rain. The people he'd once chatted with or delivered business to were now stumbling through the streets, screaming for their loved ones, for mercy, or lay unfound and forgotten beneath rubble.

"Commodore, is there not something we can do for these people?" Draco demanded, grabbing his mother's arm as she nearly tripped over a wooden board.

"My men are already doing all they can to defend Port Royal, Draco. Forgive me for being blunt, but any attempt of yours to aid them would merely be a hindrance."

Draco scowled, but hurried after the commodore and his father, if only to ensure that his mother was brought to safety. It was becoming increasingly more difficult for her to maneuver the streets in her large skirt and tight corset. Lucius glanced back and motioned to Draco to hurry, hooking his arm underneath his wife's arms and practically carrying her up the pathway to the manor.

The doors flew open and Draco and his parents were promptly rushed inside. There were soldiers hurrying from room to room, locking and securing all the windows and doors.

"Draco, son, go up to your room," Lucius ordered, letting Narcissa be whisked off by some nursemaids.

"Father, I can help! If I'm to truly become governor-"

"Draco, please." His father's eyes softened slightly and Draco could see the utter terror and desperation in the gray irises that mirrored his. His blood went cold seeing his father so vulnerable.

Despite the fact that every fiber of his being was shouting at him to rush out the doors and go to assist the soldiers and the villagers, he gave his father a curt nod and ascended the grand staircase to his quarters. A young soldier followed him up and as soon as Draco entered his room, the man shot him an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but I'm only following orders. It's for your own safety." Confusion flit across Draco's face, disappearing as soon as it had appeared once the soldier shut the door behind Draco and locked it shut from the outside.

Anger reigned as Draco lunged for the door, rattling the knob and pounding against the polished wood.

"Release me this instant! I'll not be made a prisoner in my own house!" Draco slammed his fists against the wood over and over again, desperate to be let out, but despite the footsteps echoing outside, no one answered his pleas.

With a low growl, he slammed the palm of his hand against the door one last time before stepping back and taking deep breaths to calm himself. _There must be a way out of this god forsaken room_, he assured himself, rolling his shoulders back and turning to look around his chambers.

"Aha," he murmured, grinning.

He strode toward the French doors that led to his balcony. It overlooked the ocean and had lush greenery directly below. Draco could see fires blazing in the village and he steeled himself, gathering his courage. _What kind of man would he be if he hid away in his bedroom like a coward?_ _What kind of man would the citizens of Port Royal think him? _

Pushing any inklings of doubt from his mind, Draco gripped the balustrade and swung his leg over the edge. Gulping, he glanced down at the ground beneath him. The fall would most certainly ruin his new coat and breeches. His mother would have his throat if she knew he was even contemplating wrecking the set she'd had imported from Paris.

With a small grumble, Draco let one hand go to rub his throbbing temple. He had to focus. Exhaling sharply, he furrowed his brows and reminded himself once again that every moment he wasted thinking of fashion there were pirates running loose and people being slaughtered. That sobered him immediately and he glanced down at the ground once more.

The sound of a canon going off caused him to yelp and jump, which, in turn, resulted in Draco losing his balance and slipping off the balustrade. His stomach lurched and he cried out, his hands grabbing at thin air. He managed to clutch a tree branch, but it snapped in his hand and did nothing to slow his fall. Somewhere between the blink of an eye and eternity, his back finally collided with the harsh earth. Pressure spread throughout his body and he swore he'd never felt such pain before.

"Oh, Christ," he mumbled, slowly forcing himself into a sitting position.

Draco tentatively arched his back and hissed as the pressure intensified. He wondered if he broke his spine—perhaps he'd be paralyzed. _Then how would he help the villagers? _Squinting one eye shut and watching anxiously through his open eye, Draco wiggled his toes and watched, in relief, as the tips of his boots shifted slightly. _Good. _With an annoyed huff, he realized that he'd most definitely be left with a bruise—he'd only gotten one before in his life, when he'd attempted to ride a horse and gotten bucked off, and the dark splotch did absolutely nothing for his delicate complexion.

Hoisting himself up, Draco dusted off his breeches and looked around, frowning as he realized that he had no idea which way the town was. Using the manor as a guide, he started through the thick greenery, hoping to God that he was going the right direction.

Just as filling his lungs was starting to become somewhat of an issue, the trees started to thin. Draco sighed in relief and was about to continue onward when a twig snapped behind him. Whirring around, he gasped as each of his arms was enveloped in an iron grip. He lunged forward, desperate to escape, but his efforts were in vain—his assailants merely sniggered and adjusted their grip, holding him securely. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of rum and sweat.

"Unhand me at once," he demanded, thankful that his vocal chords were much more confident than his pulse. "My father will hear of this!"

He glowered at the two men holding him. One was rather short, only reaching Draco's chin, and had sandy blond hair. The other man had tanned skin and dark hair. With a start, he realized that the shorter man had a wooden leg.

"Timber Toe," the taller man snickered, "have ye ever seen hair so white?"

"Nay," Timber Toe grinned wickedly, his Irish accent prominent, "an' he certainly is a pretty thing."

"I am not _pretty_," Draco growled, struggling to lurch himself out of their grasp.

"I say we kill him and get it over with," the dark man grunted.

"What've ye bloody idiots done now?"

Draco, still bristling from the absolute _gall_ of these men—most definitely pirates—glowered at the bronze-skinned man that stepped into the clearing. His hair was in dreadlocks, streaked with gold, and tied back with a lock. Only upon seeing the bloodied sword at the man's side did he realize that these were _pirates_. It hit him forcefully and he found himself numbed and clenching his jaw to keep from shaking or begging for mercy. _Malfoys did not, under any circumstances, beg_.

"We found 'im runnin' from the manor, Zabini," Timber Toe explained.

"We were about to kill 'im."

Zabini stepped forward, only stopping when he was a head away from Draco. His eyes narrowed and scanned Draco, taking in the lavish dress and facial features. Draco didn't move, using every ounce of pride in his bones to keep himself upright and unmoving.

"Yer the gov'ner's son, are ye not?" Draco merely lifted his chin and remained silent. "Answer me!" When he still got no answer, he snarled. "So be it. Take 'im to the cap'n, boys."

Draco's eyes widened, "_what?_"

"You heard 'im," the taller man was grinning. "Ye get to meet the _cap'n_."


	2. Chapter Two

Draco muttered obscene words underneath his breath—words that would cause his mother to faint if she heard him saying—and fumed. Timber Toe and Tommo, as he'd discovered the other man's name to be, had tossed a damp, moldy sack over Draco's head and bound his hands with some spare rope.

Desperate to do anything to slow their progress toward said _cap'n_, Draco ceased the moving of his legs.

"Bloody hell, he's more trouble than he's worth, Zabini," Tommo growled.

"Lift 'im like a lady's skirt, lads."

Draco yelped as he was promptly hefted up by his elbows. "My father will have your necks for this!"

"Did ye hear that, Timber Toe? His _daddy's_ gonna _have our necks_," Tommo chuckled.

"Why, you mongrel-"

"Shut 'im up, Tommo," Zabini said gruffly.

And the last thing Draco was aware of before falling to darkness was the scrape of a sword against its sheath.

"Aye, get up, ye lubber."

Draco squinted as the sack was pulled off of his head. Almost instantaneously, a bucket of salty water was splashed upon his face. Gasping for breath, his jaw dropped and he shook his head in an effort to clear his eyes. Rambunctious laughter sounded around him and he gulped, wondering where he was.

He rested on his knees in the middle of a circle of about twenty men. They were all golden from the sun, wearing disheveled clothing, and either staring at him with curiosity, dislike, or as if he were a slab of meat.

The floor beneath him was rocking and he could hear water lapping against something. A mast loomed behind him, sporting a large obsidian sail with a skull and crossbones. The skull had an emerald green lightning bolt on its forehead that made Draco's blood freeze. _That was Captain Harry Potter's mark. He was on The Green Siren. _

"What do we have here?" Came a rough, amused voice.

Draco turned to face forward again in time to see the bane of the King's existence himself striding through the crowd of men, who parted respectfully for him.

Stories of Harry Potter were told all throughout the Caribbean. How his hair was darker than shadows and his eyes put emeralds to shame. How he could speak to and command all creatures of the sea. One of the most famous legends was how he'd seduced a siren to do his bidding and drag Captain Greyback himself to Davey Jones's locker. Looking at the man, Draco couldn't help but wonder if the stories were true.

Harry Potter's soot hair was held back from his eyes by a maroon piece of cloth that covered his forehead. Strands tickled his stubble-lined jaw and shoulders and danced with the wind, framing his face, which was all shadows and angles. He was wearing dark breeches, leather boots, and a loose, near-transparent white shirt that did nearly nothing to cover his chiseled chest. A belt slung low around his hips was decked with multiple daggers and a sword. Most impressive, however, were his absinthe eyes, lined with kohl to repel the sun.

"The gov'ner's son, cap'n," Timber Toe announced proudly.

"And what, pray tell, is Lucius Malfoy's son doing on my ship?" Harry raised an eyebrow, not bothering to look at Timber Toe or any of his men. His eyes scanned Draco critically and contemplatively.

The men all turned and looked at Timber Toe, Tommo, and Zabini. Draco noticed Ronald Weasley, the man who was to be hung, was standing right behind Harry Potter, his arms crossed over his chest and his face stony, yet pensive.

"It was Zabini's idea, sir," Tommo quickly said, earning an eager nod from Timber Toe.

"I say we make the picaroon walk the plank!" One man shouted, earning cheers.

"I say we slit his throat!"

"Why not cut out 'is tongue and send it to Lucius Malfoy 'imself?"

Cheers and shouts broke out amongst the men and Draco gulped, feeling his pulse quicken at the threats. _Surely they wouldn't kill him after dragging him all the way here_. He imagined the horror his mother would face if she were to receive his tongue. The men instantly quieted when Potter lifted one of his hands.

"What is your name?" He asked Draco, viridescent eyes finally locking with molten silver.

"Draco Malfoy." Draco internally applauded himself for keeping his voice so even. Captain Potter shared an unreadable look with Ronald Weasley. Gathering his courage, Draco lifted his chin. "I demand you release me this instant!"

The men around him erupted in equal parts laughter and outrage. Timber Toe and Tommo were sniggering and Zabini was grinning evilly. Captain Potter merely narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side.

"Mr. Malfoy, I don't think you're in any position to be making demands," Potter drawled, stepping closer, the thud of his boots against the wooden deck sounding all too ominous.

"Your men slaughtered innocents," Draco hissed, anger slowly seeping into his veins. "The people of Port Royal did _nothing _to you, yet you bury them beneath their homes and water the island with their blood and tears."

The captain merely smirked. "Have you been told you'd make a fine poet, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco's temper flared once more at the captain's complete insolence. "You're despicable," he spat.

"Despicable is as despicable does," he turned to Ronald Weasley. "Will you show our guest to his room, Red?"

Ronald Weasley, or Red, nodded and strode toward Draco, hoisting him up by the rope that bound his wrists. His blue eyes were hard and they blazed into Draco's. The crew made way for him as he made way for a set of doors that led beneath the helm, but not without spitting before Draco's feet and whispering threats. Standing up, Draco could see the cerulean ocean that stretched toward the horizon. Port Royal was a mere shadow now in the evening light.

Red led him to a door, which he unlocked and pushed open. Inside the room was a four-poster bed with sheets the color of wine, a small, round window near the ceiling, and a trunk.

"I recognize you," Red stated as he pulled a knife from his belt and swiftly removed Draco's bindings. "You were in the courtyard."

Draco massaged his chafed wrists and let his anger drain away. "I didn't want to watch you die. God knows you may deserve it if you and your friends are killing innocents as you did in Port Royal, however."

Red tucked his knife back in his belt and crossed his arms over his chest, fixing Draco with a set of narrowed eyes. "It would do you good not to anger anyone whilst the captain's not around, Mr. Malfoy. Those _friends _of mine would wring your neck right now if the captain let them."

Ignoring the terror that gripped him, Draco gulped and raised his eyes to tentatively meet Red's. "And why isn't he letting them?"

"Because you're worth more to him alive than dead," Red said easily.

"Am I supposed to be thankful to him for that?" Draco asked dryly.

Red stepped forward, causing Draco to instinctively take one back. "Harry showed you mercy out there, Malfoy. Regardless of the fact that he didn't make you pay for that outburst you had, it would do you good to remember not to anger him. He didn't gain his reputation for nothing. Egg him on and, despite your value, one day he'll snap." Red strode to the door, but right as he was stepping through the threshold, he turned his head and looked at Draco once more. "I'm warning you, Malfoy. The stories you've heard about Harry? They're true."


	3. Chapter Three

Draco glanced up as the door was pushed open. In walked a thin man with mousy brown hair, large eyes, and a seemingly permanent grin.

"Ahoy, bucko," Creevey locked the door behind him, then carefully placed a tray of bread, cheese, and a cup of water on the closed trunk near Draco's bed. "How're ye feelin' this fine day, mate?"

The young man flopped down on the bed as Draco knelt down beside the tray and narrowed his eyes at the meager meal. Bread and cheese had been all he'd eaten for the past few days, an apple from Red being the only dietary change. He'd been offered rum, but had declined, stating that it was a dreadful drink that turned even the most respectable of men into blithering idiots.

"As well as a man may feel whilst being held hostage on a ship filled with men who'd like nothing more than to slit his throat," Draco sneered at the bread, but ripped off a piece and chewed on it nonetheless.

It was extremely bland, just like the last few pieces, and he'd be glad to never see another piece of bread for the rest of his life. He could feel Creevey's eyes on him as he ate.

"C'mon, it's not that bad, laddie. Ye've got me an' Red, haven't ye? And the cap'n's feeding' ya more than most of the crew gets." Creevey smiled toothily at Draco in a way that he must have thought was reassuring.

Draco merely scowled at the mention of Harry Potter, the beloved _cap'n_. Draco hadn't seen him since his first day on The Green Siren, but couldn't stop thinking about him. _The nerve of that man_. The fact that he'd kept Draco locked in a room for days with only Red and Creevey for company was positively deplorable. Draco had tried searching for something to do, but the trunk was filled with clothes, both coats and dresses. There were no books in the room, nor was there any parchment or quills.

For the past few days, Draco had passed his time doing mindless, simple things. Standing on his trunk and gazing out the window at the rocking waves. Laying on his bed and observing the canopy, letting his mind wander where his body could not. Wondering if Commodore Snape had already set sail in search of Draco. Pondering what Potter was doing.

"I suppose that's a more optimistic way to see things," Draco muttered in a wry monotone.

"Aye, there ye go." Creevey beamed at him. Draco downed the cup of water and nibbled on the cheese, prompting Creevey to stand up. "I've got to go—Zabini'll have my hide if I don't help Timber Toe mop the decks."

Draco ignored the pang of disappointment. "Alright. Thank you for the food, Creevey."

The pirate looked pleased at Draco's appreciation. "It's my pleasure, bucko."

Draco listened as the echo of the young man's footsteps faded away, giving in to the lapping of water against the hull of the ship. Letting out a long sigh, Draco lowered himself down onto his bed and leaned back against the pillows. If he listened, he could hear the shouting of the crew as they went about their daily chores. Red would be surveying the mens' work, most likely, and Creevey would be mopping up with Timber Toe. Zabini and Tommo would be tending to the sails. As for the captain, he'd either be in his quarters or at the helm.

He'd gotten this information from Creevey on his third day aboard The Green Siren. The man had been more than happy to answer Draco's questions, as it put off having to do his duties. He'd been told all about the running of the ship and a bit about Red and Harry. Creevey had gone on about a few other crew members as well, but Draco hadn't cared enough to pay his attention.

Creevey's absence reminded Draco once again of how lonely he was aboard the ship. Half the men aboard wanted to kill him and the other half were unlikely to protest, seeing as how most pirates despised Lucius Malfoy. Draco's father had a hand in the hangings of dozens of pirates, ridding Port Royal of the criminals. A chance at bringing the governor down a peg would surely be one that no buccaneer would be able to resist.

"Damn this ship to hell," Draco muttered, kicking his trunk.

Pain erupted in his toe and he hissed obscenities beneath his breath, grabbing his foot and hopping over to the bed. As the pain slowly faded, he exhaled heavily and buried his face in his hands, wanting nothing more than to be back at Port Royal helping his mother translate French or listening to his father ramble and rant about the laziness of Commodore Snape's men.

In that moment, Draco decided that he needed to get off the ship. For the second time that week, he planned an escape.

Draco steeled himself, trying not to feel too bad about what he was about to do. _It had to be done. There was no other way he could get off the ship. _He got a better grip on the tray that Creevey had left that morning and stood beside the doorway, ignoring the frantic pounding of his heart. He'd never hurt someone physically before, unless one counted the time he accidentally whacked Commodore Snape in the face with the blunt of his sword while trying to learn. Needless to say, his father refused to let him around any sort of weapon.

"You can do this, Draco. You're the governor-to-be of Port Royal." He murmured under his breath, trying to build up his courage.

Footsteps sounded outside Draco's room, as did whistling—the same tune Creevey was always humming. Draco wiped his sweaty palms on his breeches and gripped the tray tightly, hoping to God that nobody would hear the clang. The sound of Creevey fumbling with the key in the lock caused Draco to gulp and he took a deep breath, raising the tray over his head.

"Ye won't believe what Tommo-"

Draco let out a high-pitched yelp and swung the tray down, slamming it atop Creevey's head. The mousy-haired man grunted, then crumpled to the floor, bringing some bread and cheese and a cup of water with him.

"Oh God, oh God," Draco whimpered, dropping the tray and bending down to make sure that Creevey was still alive.

He let out a shaky, relieved breath when he felt Creevey's pulse beneath his fingertips, then grabbed the bread and cheese and stuffed it in one of his shirt pockets. He also took the key that Creevey had dropped. After dragging the young man over to the bed and arranging him so that he'd at least be comfortable whilst unconscious, Draco poked his head out of the doorway.

Boisterous laughter and cups clinking echoed from the deck and he glanced up and down the hallway a couple of times before stepping across the threshold and pulling the door closed behind him. He murmured an apology to Creevey as he locked the door, then tucked the key away.

Draco crept down the hall, glancing around him and flinching at every creak of the ship. Upon reaching the set of doors that led out to the deck, he pushed one of them open just a bit, then looked to see what was going on.

The crew was laughing and dancing, downing bottles of rum and shooting birds that flew overhead. In the setting sun, they were certainly a sight and if Draco weren't so terrified of capture, he might even find it amusing—he'd never seen a man drunk before, only heard stories from Commodore Snape's men.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Draco dashed out the door and lunged for the staircase that led up to the helm, hiding in the shadows behind a barrel of rum. His heart pounded as he watched a familiar set of boots—Red's boots—walk past his hiding spot.

"Oi, Red! Ye seein' yer lass in Tortuga?"

Draco watched as Red snatched the bottle from Timber Toe, then took a swig, shoving a dancing crew member away from him with a half-amused expression. "Dunno yet, mate. We'll see."

"Ye think her ship's gonna make port?" Tommo wondered, gulping down his own bottle.

"A man can hope," was all Red said before clapping Timber Toe and Tommo on the shoulders, then striding up to the helm.

It was what felt like centuries before the men finally started drifting off, heading below the ship to sleep it off in their bunks. Draco's legs had fallen asleep and his bottom was numb, courtesy of the stiff wooden floor. The last man to leave was Red, who succumbed to fatigue whilst humming about a pirate's life.

After he was absolutely certain that everyone was asleep, Draco pushed the barrel of rum out of his way and stumbled out from underneath the staircase. He groaned and put his hands on his hips, arching his back in an effort to stretch it out.

For the first time in days, Draco was able to see the vast ocean surrounding him. Stars glittered overhead and moonlight washed the deck in a glowing radiance. The only sounds were the water lapping against the ship and the occasional bump from below. It was now or never.

Draco hurried over to the rowboats, ignoring the anxious tingles spreading throughout his body. His pulse was erratic as he fumbled with the knots that anchored the boat to the ship—_why were there so many knots? _At last, the rope gave way and Draco grabbed it, prepared to lower the rowboat into the water below.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," came a low drawl behind him.

Draco spun around, grasping one of the oars as a weapon—he'd recognize that voice anywhere. Chartreuse eyes glowed at him, luminescent in the starlight. Harry was leaning against the mast with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs crossed. A smirk rested on his lips.

"I assume this is the part where you kill me," Draco snarled.

Harry pushed himself away from the mast, toward Draco. "What use would you be to me dead? I need you alive, Draco." A shiver ran down Draco's spine upon hearing it spoken in Harry's husky voice—he assured himself it was merely because of the breeze. "This is precisely why I cannot possibly, under good conscience, allow you to leave the ship."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the man. "You honestly expect me to believe that? I'm not dense."

"Believe what you will. I have no reason to deceive you." Harry shrugged, then stopped a few feet from Draco. "But if you lower that rowboat and leave in it, your life will be in greater danger than if you were to stay on the Siren."

"Is that so?" Draco sneered, suddenly feeling quite bold. "Tell me, is a chance at freedom really more dangerous than being aboard a ship with a crew that would like nothing more than to throttle me?"

"At least onboard the ship you have my protection against anything and everything. Out on the open ocean, some angry pirates will seem like nothing." Harry stepped closer, tilting his head to the side and fixing Draco with an almost predatory mien. "Tell me, Draco. Can you swim?"

He gulped and crossed his arms over his chest, lifting his chin at the soot-haired pirate. "That's none of your concern. And anyways, I'll be in a rowboat, so-"

"What happens when a large wave overturns the boat? Or a dolphin nudges it?" Harry was slowly moving closer. "What happens when a leak erupts? What happens when you realize you're lost and have no clue where to go? Not even the royal navy will find a small rowboat in the middle of the Caribbean, Draco. What will you do then? Pray?" Harry tsked, still advancing on him. "What happens when you come across sirens? They're not too forgiving, you realize."

"Hilarious," Draco growled, ignoring Harry's proximity. "Sirens don't exist."

His emerald eyes twinkled knowingly, but he merely cocked his head to the side again. "Is that so?"

"Yes. Yes it is." Draco gulped, but kept his shoulders squared and his chin high. "I don't believe in myths and legends, Potter."

"How dull," he remarked, resting his hand on his belt.

"I'm not a child," Draco snapped, glaring at the pirate. "My father will have your head for kidnapping me."

"I'm terrified," he said in a monotone, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

"You think this is a joke?" Draco glowered at him.

"I'd like to see Lucius Malfoy _try_ to capture me." He stepped closer, prompting Draco to take a step back.

"My father is not a man you want to cross, Potter."

Harry grinned wickedly. "Neither am I."


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

The first thing Draco was aware of was the ache in his head. He could feel his pulse thrumming beneath his temples, as it let out a dull pain at every beat. With a long groan, he rolled over and sat up, putting his fingers to his head and applying pressure in an effort to relieve the pain.

"Rise and shine, Lumpy."

Draco snapped his head to the doorway, where Red stood smirking at him, holding a tray of food. "What did you just call me?"

"Lumpy," Red said simply, striding over and setting the tray on the edge of the bed. "You've got a lump the size of a cannonball on that silver head 'o yours."

A worried cry slipped out of Draco's lips as his hands flew to the source of the pain and prodded it tentatively—there _was _a lump. "_Why is there a lump on my head?_" He screeched, staring wide-eyed at the red-haired pirate in front of him.

Red chuckled, "what, you don't remember?"

Suddenly, it all came back to Draco: knocking out Creevey, sneaking through the hallway, hiding underneath the staircase, then being caught by Harry as he was about to leave in a rowboat. He frowned as he realized that Harry must have been the one to render him unconscious. A jolt of anger surged through him and he swiftly stood, shooting a hard glare at Red.

"Take me to see Potter," he demanded, clenching his jaw.

Red sighed in exasperation, "you're kidding, right?"

"Do I look as if I'm _kidding_?" Draco narrowed his eyes.

"So be it," Red grumbled. "Remember, Lumpy—Harry's your best chance at surviving on this ship."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Don't call me that."

Red merely shrugged and moved to unlock the door. He paused, then turned to look at Draco. "You're not stupid enough to attempt another escape in broad daylight, correct?"

"I don't intend to flee," Draco rolled his eyes.

"Right, then." Red unlocked the door, then gestured for Draco to follow him.

They made their way down the hallway to a set of double doors. After shaking his head in exasperation, Red rapped his knuckles against the wood. They waited for a few seconds, Draco silently fuming, before the door was wrenched open. Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"What is this?"

Draco's eyes narrowed and he pointed to his head. "What is _this?_"

"That is your head." Harry closed the door behind the two of them, then took a seat behind a large table with a tattered map spread out over it. "Although if you hadn't already known that, I daresay Lucius Malfoy did an abysmal job of raising you-"

"I meant the lump, _Potter_," Draco snarled, stomping over to the table and slamming his fist down.

When Harry looked up, his absinthe eyes were narrowed and cold. "I told you I couldn't allow you to leave the ship." He tilted his head to the side and surveyed Draco as if he were a piece of meat. "Surely you didn't think I was jesting."

"You…" Draco took a deep breath, willing himself not to punch the pirate in the face. "You are a savage. You and your entire crew. You're uncivilized, you're barbaric, and you've no respect _whatsoever _for the crown that kept you and yours safe for centuries. Your manners are atrocious, half of you _can't even speak proper English, _and you strut about the ship partially _naked _half the time!" Draco ignored the fact that anger was causing his voice to come out uneven. "Do you know who has to clean up after your raids? Do you realize how many innocents you've slaughtered? All you do is sit in this _nasty _room and look at your _nasty _map while your crew drinks their _nasty _rum, not sparing a single second thought for those you've affected. You are _despicable_."

Draco panted heavily, attempting to even his breath. Harry's expression hadn't changed throughout his rant and it was impossible to attempt to discern what was going on in his mind. A shock of nerves jolted through him upon realizing that he'd leaned so far forward that his face was less than a foot away from Harry's. He quickly straightened his back and clenched his fists at his sides, waiting for the captain to say something.

Harry was staring at Draco contemplatively, rubbing his hand across the stubble at his angled jaw. The kohl around his emerald eyes was smudged, causing his gaze to appear all the more intense.

"You know," Harry stood and rested his knuckles on the table, leaning forward, "I've only just realized that you've done nothing to earn your keep on this ship."

Draco's jaw dropped. "You _kidnapped _me!"

"It's hardly fair to my crew—they work so very hard." Harry continued as if Draco hadn't spoken. "So starting today, you'll be joining Zabini and Timber Toe. They could always use an extra hand."

"You don't honestly expect me to _work_ on a pirate ship-"

"Red, will you escort Mr. Malfoy here to the deck?"

"Sure thing, mate." Red smirked and prodded Draco's shoulder. "Let's go."

"I'm not going anywhere-"

Harry sighed and pulled a revolver from his belt, causing Draco's blood to go cold. He swiftly pulled the hammer back with his thumb, then rested his finger over the trigger. Emerald eyes shone wickedly at Draco, dancing behind the gun. "You were saying?"

Draco gulped, then stepped back from the table. "You're going straight to Hell."

"Already there, love." Harry tucked the revolver back in his belt, shooting Draco a smirk.

Red led Draco back through the hallway and out another set of double doors to the deck. A couple of men were climbing ropes up to the mast, some were rushing around doing God knows what, and others were on their hands and knees scrubbing the wooden floor, wincing as Zabini shouted at them to 'put thar backs inta it.' Draco's mouth went dry—_Harry and Red couldn't seriously expect him to scrub the floor like some sort of servant_.

"Oi, Zabini!" Red called, "Lumpy here's gonna join you."

"Aye, that be true." Zabini grinned, then threw a dirty rag at Draco, who barely caught it. "Get to work, ye landlubber!"

Draco was promptly shoved down onto his hands and knees. Zabini grabbed a bucket and splashed water on the floor in front of him. Aghast and sure that this was some sort of stunt, Draco gaped at the scene around him.

"Get ta work or yer not gettin' lunch, ye bilge rat," Zabini threatened, before storming across the deck to yell at some unfortunate soul.

Pushing away what was left of his pride, Draco used his tattered rag to clean the grungy deck. The sun was burning his skin through the shirt he wore and his knees were numb. His fingernails were caked with grime and his skin was coated with a sheen of sweat. He'd never felt so filthy in his entire life. Draco shuddered to imagine what his mother would say were she to see him—he knew he most likely made a sorry sight.

Draco was given a short break for lunch, in which he greedily inhaled his bread and cheese and listened to stories from Creevey. The man had happily accepted Draco's apology and, frankly, Draco wasn't sure if Creevey even remembered his wretched escape attempt.

All Draco could think about during his rest, however, was the fact that Harry had pulled a gun on him. Nobody had dared threaten Draco's life like that before. Thoughts gnawed at him as he wondered whether Harry would've actually shot him. He knew he should've been more afraid—he should be positively terrified of Harry. After all, stories were told of the daunting and ruthless captain of The Green Siren. Where fear should've been, anger and intrigue resided.

After his lunch break, Draco was put to work assisting Timber Toe and Tommo with the knots and sails. They'd both teased him mercilessly upon watching him try to tie a sail down with a bow and had only ceased their taunts upon a man named Bottom stepping in and teaching Draco to knot it properly. He'd pat Draco on the back, then assured him that he'd get the hang of it eventually.

By the time the sun started dipping below the horizon, Draco was ready to faint. His fingers and hands were raw and his skin burned upon coming into contact with anything. It felt tight and constricting—an overall uncomfortable sensation.

For the first time since he'd been dragged on board the Siren, Draco slept restfully and dreamlessly.


	5. Chapter Five

Draco groaned, cursing the pounding on his door with every obscene word in his vocabulary. It had been two weeks since his first night on board the Siren and he had yet to become accustomed to being awoken at dawn. He could hear the pounding footsteps of the rest of the crew as they rushed to their positions, getting a head start on their chores.

"Up you get, Lumpy!" Red gave his door one last rap before leaving to tend to the steering wheel.

With one last sigh, Draco shoved the covers away from him and pulled on his shirt, wincing as his muscles ached. Most of the crew was already hard at work when he arrived on deck and Creevey called out a cheerful greeting before having half a bucket of water dumped over his head by Zabini.

Draco smirked, then strode over to the mast to help Bottom hoist the sails. The sight of the black sails still sent a wave of nerves to shudder through Draco, but he was slowly getting used to the sight of them. The stories of the Siren that sailors would come home with always chilled Draco's bones. The sails darker than shadows, the smirking skull and crossbones, and the piercing lightning bolt across the skull's forehead were legend amongst seafarers. To Draco, it seemed almost an act of betrayal to be the one displaying the forbidding sails.

"Top 'o the mornin' to ye," Timber Toe clapped Draco on the back before climbing up to the crows nest and joining Tommo.

Grumbling and widening his eyes exaggeratedly in an attempt to wake himself up, Draco picked up a knotted pile of rope and got to work untangling it. His long, nimble fingers were starting to become rougher and calloused.

He'd mentioned this to Bottom a couple of days previous and had received only laughter. As an explanation, the man had shown his hand to Draco and stated that Draco's hand was like a lass's cheek compared to his. It was a running joke amongst the crew now that Draco had 'lady hands,' much to his displeasure.

"What did that pitiful rope do to offend you?" A shadow loomed over Draco.

Registering that he'd been scowling, Draco smoothed out his features and looked up at Harry. His face was expressionless, but his eyes—which Draco had realized were the color of the sea, much to his aggravation—were twinkling.

"It kidnapped me and put me to work on a ship," Draco quickly replied upon seeing Harry's head tilt.

The head tilt. Draco dreaded the cant of Harry's head, as it meant that he was considering, pondering, or surprised by something interesting. It was occurring more and more often around Draco, something he knew was most likely due to Draco's habit to get caught up in his thoughts during a conversation or let one of these thoughts slip off his tongue.

"You don't despise the work as you'd like many to believe," Harry said easily, crossing his arms over his chest and looking out at the horizon.

"I abhor that accusation," Draco snapped, glaring at the dark-haired man.

Harry merely shrugged. "Yet you don't deny it.

He pulled a wicked dagger from his belt and used it to loosen a knot that Draco had been having trouble with. Draco forced himself to mutter an incoherent 'thank you,' as his fingers had been starting to become numb due to the stubborn tangle. Harry winked and opened his mouth to say something more, but was interrupted by Tommo.

"Cap'n!" The man had a wide grin.

With a curious frown, Harry clenched the dagger between his teeth and pulled himself up to the crow's nest with a rope. Draco would never admit that in that moment, he had been watching the muscles of Harry's back and biceps clench and contract as he did so. He also swore never to divulge the fact that he found the sight of Harry's windblown hair and a blade clenched between his teeth highly attractive.

He watched as Harry pulled the dagger from between his lips, then twirled it expertly between his clever fingers as his line of sight followed the direction in which Tommo and Timber Toe were eagerly pointing. A twitch of the mouth turned into a full-blown smirk.

"Tortuga," he murmured fondly. He turned and leaned down over the side of the crow's nest, addressing the entire crew. "Who's ready to stock up on some rum and wenches, lads?"

The entire crew started cheering and punching their fists in the air, beaming at Harry as if he were a god. Timber Toe and Tommo were doing some sort of jig in the crow's nest and Zabini was grinning widely, clapping Creevey on the shoulder and gazing yearningly at the horizon. Harry slid gracefully down the rope and tucked his dagger back into his belt.

"Tortuga?" Draco questioned, not quite believing he heard Harry right.

"Tortuga." Harry's eyes were sparkling. "It's an island off the coast of Haiti. Have you heard of it?"

Gulping, Draco nodded. "You can't honestly expect to make port there and sail away with your life. Barbarians and… savages live there. It's uncivilized and dangerous."

"Careful, Draco. I might just think you care about my wellbeing." Harry's eyes glinted mischievously and the corners of his lips were quirked up.

"Don't be ridiculous," Draco quickly said, ducking his head down so Harry wouldn't see the blush crawling up his neck. "I'm simply warning you. Commodore Snape's men have never visited that island without casualties."

"That's because his men are employed by the crown." Harry adjusted the maroon piece of cloth he kept tied over his forehead and ran his fingers through the shaggy, raven hair that hung in front of his face. "I've not had a single fatality during a visit. My crew is well-known in Tortuga and no sensible man, drunk or not, would dare harm someone under my command."

"Even the criminals are frightened of you," Draco muttered to himself, sneering.

"And for good reason."

Draco's eyes locked with piercing green ones and he suppressed the urge to glance away from the intense gaze. To his absolute horror, Draco felt his breeches tighten slightly. _This could not be happening. _He immediately focused back on the tangled rope, pulling the mass onto his lap in an effort to conceal something he knew Harry's sharp eyes would take notice of. Unbeknownst to him, they already had.

"You ought to take care of that," Harry murmured.

Draco's eyes snapped up and his cheeks burned. "Wh-what?"

"The rope," he tilted his head to the side innocently. "How are we to… _erect _the sails with tangled rope? It seems awfully _hard_."

Assuring himself that Harry's choice of words was a mere coincidence, Draco swallowed down a mortified whimper and glanced back up at the simpering captain. "If you'd desist from distracting me, I'm sure I'd be through by now."

"I'm distracting you?" His eyes were gleaming with amusement, much to Draco's chagrin.

"_Yes_, and you know you are." He grit his teeth and willed the lower half of his body to cooperate.

"Alright, I'll stop, then."

When Harry showed no inclination to move, Draco chanced a look at him. "Your mere presence is distracting," he stated, irritation apparent in his tone.

"Pity."

Draco closed his eyes and murmured a prayer to find the patience to deal with Harry. Lord knew he'd need it.

* * *

><p>Draco yelped and flinched as yet another shot was fired, flabbergasted when laughter erupted and the music continued. He had been dragged into a boisterous pub by Timber Toe and Tommo almost as soon as they'd made port. After a bit of time, Bottom and Creevey had joined them, then eventually Red and Zabini. Harry had tasked Red with the responsibility of keeping an eye on Draco—as if he couldn't take care of himself—then disappeared.<p>

A cup of rum was slammed down in front of Draco and a bit sloshed over the edge. Timber Toe raised his glass, prompting the other five and Draco to lift theirs as well.

"To our newest edition, Draco!" He slurred, having had a few drinks already. "The lumpiest of 'em all!"

"To Draco!" They all chorused, before gulping down their rum.

Draco glared at Timber Toe, incensed at the toast, but took a grudging sip of the alcohol, having never had it before. It tasted odd on his tongue and burned a bit on its way down his throat, not unpleasantly. Feeling a bit more confident, he took a larger gulp.

"Aye, there ye go, mate!" Creevey pat Draco on the back and bounced his shoulders and head to the tune of the music.

Laughter and cheers filled the air, as did gun smoke, alcohol, and the stench of bile. Women with extremely low-cut bodices and men with scraggly, limp hair and no teeth danced merrily through the pub, finding jouissance in their mutual inebriation. Draco almost envied their ability to relinquish their dignity.

He didn't realize until another mug was placed in front of him that he'd finished his first drink. His mind felt a bit fuzzy, but he reached for the rum nonetheless. After he finished that drink, he was pulled up by a flushed Timber Toe.

"Come on, mate!"

He laughed as Timber Toe led them through the room, dancing and singing along with the other occupants of the pub. He twirled around and ignored the slight spinning of the room as he danced with men and women alike, kissing strangers on their cheeks and receiving sloppy smooches back. It was the happiest he could remember feeling and Draco swore he'd never felt so free.

Bottom shoved another drink in Draco's hand and they clinked their glasses together, toasting to rum. Zabini dragged Bottom and Creevey away to dance and Draco found himself caught in the middle of Tommo and Timber Toe, singing along.

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!" Draco chugged down the last of his rum, no longer shying away from the substance.

"This right 'ere is the life!" Tommo announced.

Red was sitting at their table in the corner, his lips locked with those of a frizzy-haired brunette. She was dressed differently than the other woman in the pub, wearing a loose-fitting shirt, breeches, and a belt stocked with various weapons. His hand, which was resting on the back of her neck, was holding a sailor's hat that had to belong to the woman.

Draco stumbled over to the table and took a seat, groaning when the room suddenly spun. Once everything was back in order, he looked over at Red and the woman. They were both watching him with amused grins.

"Oi, Lumpy." Red held his hand in front of Draco's face. "How many fingers am I holdin' up?"

Draco squinted. Red's hand wouldn't stay still long enough for him to count and he said so, much to the mirth of Red and the woman.

"Ronald, leave him alone," the woman chided, tugging playfully at Red's ear.

"The poor bloke won't even remember this tomorrow, Mione."

The door slammed, prompting Draco to furrow his brow and glance up at the entrance. Harry strode in with a frown on his face, looking deep in thought. Draco wanted to ask him what was wrong. He wanted Harry to stop looking so upset because he looked so much better when he was smiling.

"Finally." Red stood, pulling the woman up with him.

Harry's features instantly smoothed out upon approaching the table. "Captain Granger," he grinned and hugged the woman. "How have you been Hermione?"

She beamed at him and Draco decided that she was really quite pretty. Obviously, she didn't hold a candle to Harry, but he could see why Red liked her. "I've been alright. Did you see Ginny? She's wandering around somewhere with Parkinson and Chang."

"I did. She threatened to put a bullet between my eyes if I didn't make port more often," Harry chuckled.

Draco was shocked and he knew that his jaw had dropped. _Someone had threatened Harry? And she'd gotten away with it? _He rubbed his eyes, wondering if he'd heard right.

"…and he's sloshed. I'll meet you back at the Siren, mate." Red disappeared off with Hermione.

Harry smirked down at Draco and took the seat beside him. They were nestled in the corner of the room, shadowed by an upper loft. Without turning to him, Harry spoke.

"I hear you've discovered the joy of rum."

"Why did you look so sad?" Draco slurred, leaning his head against the wall and pouted at Harry.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," Harry muttered, sipping at his own glass of alcohol.

Draco groaned. "You're so mysterious," he lifted his boots onto the seat and wrapped his arms around his legs. "Stop being so enigmatic. I like it."

At that, Harry looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "If you like it, why would you like me to stop?"

"Because I'm not supposed to like it." Draco rolled his eyes as if it were obvious. "I'm supposed to like it when _women _do that, not you. So you have to stop it right…" Draco waited a few seconds, then blurt out, "…now!"

Ignoring his antics, Harry tilted his head to the side, his brows knit slightly. "Are you saying you're attracted to me, Draco?"

Nodding rapidly, Draco readjusted his position on the seat so his feet were back on the ground and he was leaning against the table. "But you can't tell anybody because I'm not supposed to."

"And why is that?"

Draco scowled. "You're not very smart, you know."

"Humor me."

"Because you're not a woman. I'm supposed to marry a woman, not a man." Draco suddenly started giggling, causing Harry to raise his eyebrows. "And certainly not a _pirate! _I couldn't marry a pirate man. My father would have a heart attack." Wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, Draco grinned at Harry. "And you're a pirate _and _a man. It's not practical. So I can't be attracted to you. That's why you have to stop climbing ropes and looking at me with your eyes."

"Climbing ropes and looking at you with my eyes?" Harry was chuckling.

"Exactly." Draco shot up, straightening his posture and looking seriously at Harry. "You have to stop being mysterious too."

"Draco," he ignored the way his name slid sinfully off Harry's tongue, "you've something yet to consider." Harry's absinthe eyes held his gaze captive and they sparkled wickedly, devils dancing in them. "What if I _want _you to like me?"

His eyes widened and he stared at Harry. "You're _evil!_"

"Yes, you've informed me once or twice."

Draco squinted at Harry, biting the inside of his cheek nervously and leaning forward, before whispering conspiratorially. "Why would you want me to like you?"

Harry leaned forward as well and his warm breath ghosted over Draco's mouth, causing a shiver to run through Draco's body. Right as Draco's eyes fluttered shut in expectation of a kiss, stubble and a hard jaw brushed against Draco's cheek and Harry's lips moved against his ear.

"Why would I want you in the first place?"

"Because I'm the governor's son," Draco whispered.

"Because you're different." Harry leaned back in his seat and took a sip of rum, smirking at Draco, who was suddenly feeling quite faint. "Think about whether you want me back or not," he drawled, not flinching as another bullet was fired.

Drunk or not, Draco already knew the answer.


End file.
